Uncovered Classics Vol. 2: Ranking 42 Acclaimed Albums I’d Never Heard
Hi.
For the last few months, I battled my ridiculous procrastination, semester of online classes and general train wreck that is my life in order to bring you these reviews of classic albums I hadn’t heard before.
If you’re insane, you can read all of my ramblings or you can be kind to yourself and just skim through looking for the albums you know and love. You can also just read the bottom and top of the list.
You do you. Thanks!
“Tha Carter III” by Lil Wayne from 2008.
So… Lil Wayne. Oftentimes, rappers get criticized for spitting tired cliches and not putting enough of themselves into the music. Instead, I think Lil Wayne put way too much of himself into “Tha Carter III,” because I really don’t want to get to know this unsavory character. Although a few songs stand out as undeniable bangers, most of this album is way too misogynistic, gross and prideful to enjoy.
The bops bang pretty hard; I have to admit. The nocturnal and minimal blend hypnotic vocal samples, dirty 808 bass and snappy drums on “A Milli” leaves plenty of space for Wayne’s raspy flows and witty one-liners. Some softer cuts go over well too, like the Kanye-produced “Comfortable,” where Babyface’s soulful hook floats over the snappy beat and thick strings between Wayne’s oddly romantic lyrics.
But so many of these ugly songs point toward Wayne’s disgusting fascinations. He makes it impossible to enjoy the music without thinking about the dirtbag behind the music on songs like “Mrs. Officer,” where he bafflingly uses police brutality as a topic for sexual roleplay. And after that insensitive filth, Wayne expects you to sit through almost seven minutes of fake-woke ranting on the closer “DontGetIt.”
But consistently, what makes Wayne so deplorable is his rampant sexism. Just read the title of track 14 and guess why.
A few of these songs belong on a turn-up playlist. Most of it belongs in the forgotten ruins of 2000s crunk.
3/10
“Reasonable Doubt” by Jay-Z from 1996.
When I first listened to “4:44” in 2018, I was surprised to find that Jay-Z, a rapper who I had dismissed as a bit boring, made a really thoughtful, entertaining and emotionally resonant album. Even if it didn’t have enough infectious bangers to keep me coming back, I respect and appreciate it for the personal artistry on display.
“Reasonable Doubt” has none of that personality or intelligence going for it, instead coming off as shallow, narrow minded and dull.
Jay-Z does deliver a few great songs and clever lines on the album. The chemistry between The Notorious B.I.G. and Hov on “Brooklyn’s Finest” provide plenty of infectious energy. And songs like “D’evils” pour quotables about the nature of crime and weird asides about feeding someone $100 bills over smooth pianos and snappy drums.
But despite some high points, a lot of this album sounds the same and ends up melting together, especially when Jay-Z’s limited flows and content can only go so far. After an hour after the same materialistic and misogynistic content delivered with the same confident style, it gets old.
Also, a few gay slurs stand out in his lyrics as especially uncomfortable. And they aren’t used in some kind of interesting context like the misdirected youthful rage of Tyler, The Creator. They just slide right into the insults Jay-Z hurls at his adversaries in a way that feels inexcusable, awkward and dated.
If I do revisit this album, it’ll be mostly for the beats.
5/10
“Station to Station” by David Bowie from 1976.
If all the songs on “Station To Station” were just as good as the two hits I had already heard, this might be a 9/10, maybe even a 10 after more listens. But the rest of these six songs just don’t live up to that hype, using long-winded structures and only building compelling soundscapes at the end of their patience-testing evolutions.
But man, those two songs are absolutely perfect. “Stay” is a masterclass of funk and disco, building from those mean and spacey guitar strums into infectiously catchy and charismatic verses and choruses and ending with the incredibly gritty guitar solos at the end. “Golden Years” is amazing too, instantly creating a head-bobbing groove with tight guitar licks and drums as Bowie complements them with his strange baritone harmonies.
Unfortunately, the other songs can’t grab me the same way these tunes do. Unlike “Stay” and “Golden Years,” the rest of “Station To Song” just happens, without enough structure to hook me in.
The title track eventually reaches an amazing climax with the layered guitar leads and hand claps, but Bowie doesn’t do much of note in the first six minutes that doesn’t feel completely eclipsed by the finale.
“TVC15” has a similar problem, establishing one consistent groove just like “Golden Years,” but not offering the same level of engaging sound play until the end when horns and distorted guitars fill out the mix.
This is one of my least favorite Bowie albums I’ve heard so far.
5/10
“Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” by Elton John from 1973.
For all my favorite songwriters, it only takes one great album to give you a vivid picture of who they are and what they stand for. But after hearing “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” I have no clue what specifically makes Elton John stand out from other classic pop rockers.
To be fair, John delivers some legendary songs on this album. The catchy chorus and dirty guitar riffs that kick in after grand synths on opener “Funeral For A Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” instantly drill into your head. And the barn-burning rocker “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting” will have you singing and humming along in no time.
The album has some gorgeous deep cuts as well, like the mellow and melancholy piano ballads “Candle In The Wind” and “Sweet Painted Melody.”
All of these songs are lavishly produced, but not all of the songwriting stands up. The title track isn’t nearly as catchy as the hits are and the vocal acrobatics necessary for those crazy harmonies come off a little awkward. There are technical issues that pop up as well, like the oddly quiet opening of “Social Disease,” which sounds more like someone accidentally turned a knob than a dynamic production choice.
And plus, this album is almost an hour and 20 minutes long. Songs like “Grey Seal,” “Jamaica Jerk-Off” and “Your Sister Can’t Twist” feel like filler.
I’ll happily revisit the hits, but the songwriting just isn’t consistently engaging enough to warrant the full album’s runtime.
5/10
“Let England Shake” by PJ Harvey from 2011.
PJ Harvey’s collection of creepy yet soothing chamber pop tunes on “Let England Shake” is definitely unique, but a little dull. The hazy, foreboding atmosphere she conjures with her eccentric performances and the folksy production is stunning, but the songwriting and lyricism don’t leave much impact.
Some of Harvey’s songs stick out for their foreboding charm. The opening title track’s mix of bright guitars, hazy percussion and eerie marimba with her simple melodies conjures a thick and oppressive mood. “The Words That Maketh Murder” is much more dynamic, building from hand claps and clean electric guitars into a propulsive climax with thickly layered backing vocals and horns.
Some of the album’s quietest moments are more memorable than its folksy barn-burners, with the intro to “All & Everyone’s” watery guitars and gentle organs stunning with its restrained beauty before opening up into a slow and somber ballad. “Hanging on the Wire” is lovely too, with airy pianos, a crisp beat and muted guitars providing a mellow foundation for Harvey’s gentle crooning.
“Let England Shake” is great to listen to while it’s on, but it doesn’t amount to much more than a mood piece after it’s all over. Maybe some of Harvey’s other work with me will click with me, but this album might not be for me.
6/10
“Paul’s Boutique” by Beastie Boys from 1989.
The production and performances across this album are zany and creative, but I just don’t care about the content of any of these songs. At most, these rap verses provide a shrill and absurd complement to the hard-hitting beats, but the nonsense puns and childish mixture of flirting and bragging often distracts from the album’s tight flow.
Even on the worst tracks, these beats instantly hook you in and keep the energy up. The punchy boom-bap drums, record scratches and dizzying rock and funk samples perfectly set the stage for the Beastie Boys’ oddball stories of 1980s New York.
The album’s creative production reaches its peak at the end, when the Boys spit over nine distinct snippets that seamlessly flow together to form closing extravaganza “B-Boy Bouillabaisse.”
But unlike this climactic onslaught of beats and raps, several songs in the core of the album give you plenty of time to realize that the Beastie Boys don’t have anything clever, entertaining or, at times, even coherent to say. “Shadrach” is a particularly unfortunate example, where the Boys eventually undermine the stellar funk beat and sticky hook with head-scratching failed puns about J.D. Salinger and asides about having more money than Charles Dickens. Is that clever? Am I missing something?
If I do return to this, I’ll treat it more like a beat tape than a hip-hop classic. I’ll probably enjoy it more if I pay less attention.
6/10
“Siamese Dream” by The Smashing Pumpkins from 1993.
“Siamese Dream” is a well-put together album; that’s indisputable. From the expansive production, raw performances and catchy melodies, I can totally understand why some consider this a masterpiece. But its rough edges make it hard to appreciate in places. Although the Pumpkins’ songwriting and production comes together for soft, soaring bliss on the album’s finest moments, “Siamese Dream” stumbles in its abrasive and aggressive cuts.
Unfortunately, the Pumpkins kick the album off with its worst tracks. Opener “Cherub Rock” shows some promise with its catchy riffs, but the dull, distorted soundscape and Billy Corgan’s melodramatic screeching and low muttering make the track unappealing. “Quiet” suffers similar issues, with the gritty aesthetic, repetitive riffs and Corgan’s low croons growing old pretty quickly.
But when the Pumpkins aim for a little more beauty and subtlety, “Siamese Dream” becomes a delight. On “Hummer,” watery guitars, warm bass and blistering leads perfectly complement Corgan’s airy vocals, before an even softer and more gorgeous outro gently carries the tune to its end. “Disarm” gets downright orchestral, swapping out distorted guitars for lush string arrangements.
The Pumpkins deliver a few satisfying hybrids of their darker and brighter sounds as well, like on the anthemic “Today” and the punky “Geek U.S.A.” But overall, “Siamese Dream” is too inconsistent to be a true rock triumph, even if it’s obviously carefully crafted.
6/10
“The Colour of Spring” by Talk Talk from 1985.
Talk Talk’s prog-pop classic is definitely unique and features some absolutely stunning highlights. But overall, “The Colour of Spring” wears out a little too much of its welcome by the end. I can’t see myself returning to this one too often.
It’s a shame that I won’t, because the best tracks truly are incredible. The driving groove, catchy piano riff, warm organs and glorious guitar tones on “Life’s What You Make It” are instantly unforgettable. Mark Hollis’ simple melodies sung in his idiosyncratic tone and intense vibrato complement the track perfectly, especially when contrasted with the distant background vocals on the hook. “Living in Another World” is just as anthemic and even more dynamic, building from pristine acoustic guitars into a fever pitch by piling on electric guitars, organs and percussion.
But as grand as these prog-pop bops are, “The Colour of Spring can be a little obtuse at times, especially near the end. Unlike the subdued but lovely “April 5th,” penultimate track “Chameleon Day” just feels empty, providing nothing but sparse piano and vocals with no solid tune to pull it together. And although closer “Time It’s Time” builds toward some spellbinding moments, it often feels like it’s dragging its feet getting there.
Talk Talk deserves its flowers for creating an immaculately produced album. But the whole package isn’t quite tight enough to keep me coming back.
6/10
“The Boxer” by The National from 2007.
“The Boxer” is dark, but peaceful. It feels claustrophobic, but in a way that feels just as cozy as it is unsettling. The National’s simple but tasteful instrumentation creates a fitting backdrop for soft and confessional musings on the most intimidating parts of everyday life.
As cohesive as it is, “The Boxer’s” understated production makes it underwhelming in spots. As beautiful as the sparse acoustic arpeggios and slow build of “Start A War” is, I can’t help but imagine what a longer, more ambitious evolution of the song could have been. Matt Berhinger’s baritone, fragile lines about trying to be happy and “holding someone by the edges” pack quite an emotional punch, but the song fades away before it can deliver the emotional climax the lyrics deserve.
Although the album’s songs rarely stretch far beyond three minutes, not all of them feel incomplete. The build from soft pianos and sparkling guitars into a bombastic drum groove and bright horn section on opener “Fake Empire” is cathartic and dramatic, contrasting Berhinger’s exhausted performance. The driving rhythm, gritty electric guitars and soft synths of “Apartment Story” deliver a satisfying journey too, pairing some of the most vulnerable vocals on the album with angelic swells of distortion, background vocals and bright pulsing piano chords.
This album is soft-spoken and unassuming, but it has a magnetic presence. It frustrates me with sounds that feel restrained and underdeveloped, but keeps me coming back for more. The National made a great, human and mysterious album here; I can’t deny that.
7/10
“Lateralus” by TOOL from 2001.
I could probably take up more than enough space just picking out TOOL’s weird time signatures and nerdy math references in this album if I wanted. But I’m not nearly smart enough to appreciate all that and plus, I’m way more interested in just appreciating “Lateralus” as a listening experience. Fortunately, TOOL’s geek sensibilities don’t stop this album from going damn hard.
The production and songwriting throughout “Lateralus” are excellent. Opener “The Grudge” sets the tone with intricate riffs, driving grooves and squelchy bass tones that sound ripped straight out of a Primus track. The way the song dynamically rises and then relaxes to show off new timbres and textures keeps it fresh for all eight minutes. The title track is even more epic, taking almost 10 minutes to build from a spacey intro into soaring choruses with vocals just as catchy as they are rhythmically strange.
Despite the awesome highlights, “Lateralus” can get to be a little much, especially near the end. Especially after the 11-minute “Reflection,” the comparatively straight-forward instrumental “Triad” just feels like less-interesting echoes of past songs. That penultimate dud doesn’t ruin the ending though, with closer “Faaip De Oiad” using some incredible sound design and radio drama dialogue to leave you on the edge of your seat.
“Lateralus” is definitely worth a listen, even for listeners without much love for metal. I’m no metalhead by any means and I can’t deny the talent TOOL displays here.
7/10
“American Beauty” by Grateful Dead from 1970.
The blend of rock, blues and folk music Grateful Dead presents on “American Beauty” is just so careless and soothing. The songwriting doesn’t provide many stunning lyrics or stories, but the twangy guitars and sticky melodies make that perfectly fine. This album is perfect to just zone out to and gradually soak in.
The aesthetic of “American Beauty” is primitive in a welcoming and nostalgic way. The thick vocal harmonies remind me of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, but a lot of these melodies and song structures sound more like something you’d hear in the background while watching “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”
“Ripple” and “Brokedown Palace” are perfect examples, with bright acoustic guitars and breezy singing eventually giving way to catchy group vocals at the end.
“Friend of the Devil” really leans into the folk style, using guitars and mandolin that weave a bluegrass tapestry as the lyrics tell their superstitious, downtrodden tale. But the band delivers some great straightforward rockers too, like “Till the Morning Comes,” with its easy-going harmonies drifting over driving drums and bluesy licks and warm bass.
Closing track “Truckin’“ is a cheerful and fitting farewell, pairing gritty guitars with walking bass and dusty organs as more bright harmonies talk of rambling on into the future.
I won’t be compelled to break this down very deeply and dissect its messaging any time soon. But as a record to put on and relax to, “American Beauty” is flawless.
7/10
“Funeral” by Arcade Fire from 2004.
This album has a few rough edges and muddy mixes, but the songwriting and performances can be truly inspired. Arcade Fire pulls together dreamy and soaring visions of suburbia that pack a joyful, nostalgic punch. “Funeral” doesn’t draw power from it’s raw aesthetic like some of my all-time favorite albums do, but its lack of polish doesn’t get in the way of these transcendent songs much either.
Opening track “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)” clearly demonstrates the absolute joy and unpolished aesthetic the whole album delivers. Wit Butler’s soaring vocals and the counter melodies performed by unified pianos and guitars at the song’s climax perfectly capture the revelatory and rebellious mood of the lyrics. But the song takes a long time to get to that emotional peak, with the drums and vocals getting buried during the first leg.
Luckily, most of these songs don’t have distractingly hazy or muddy production. The band’s folksy strings, raw guitars and punchy drums melt together into sonic bliss on the dynamic ballad-turned-punk-banger “Une Annee Sans Lumiere” or the anthemic and heavy “Wake Up.”
I admire this album to bits, but the songs haven’t stuck with me the way I wanted them to, either because of the rough production or the repetitive and simple melodic ideas. Hopefully, I can learn to appreciate this dreamy slice of ’00s indie more with time.
7/10
“Green” by Hiroshi Yoshimura from 1986.
Out of all the ambient albums I’ve heard so far, this one strikes the most interesting balance between rhythm and space. Hiroshi Yoshimura uses minimal mixes of subdued synths to create soothing songs, but gives his songs enough structure to make “Green” equally engaging actively and passively.
Obviously, the emphasis on rhythm doesn’t make the album any harder to vibe to; plenty of the tracks use spacey compositions that would fit right into other ambient works. The warm keys, shrill synths and spacey bass of “STREET” leave plenty of room for each tone to stand out, making the almost seven-minute song a meditative and calming odyssey. Predictably, “SLEEP” is just as subtle and soft, using layers of drawn-out chords on wavering keys to create a comforting sea of icy atmosphere.
But when Yoshimura goes in a more rhythmic direction, “Green’s” style becomes even more distinct and intriguing. The swirling sea of chime arpeggios on opening track “CREEK” keep a consistent pulse over a backdrop of airy synths. The driving synth, bright bells and looming swells of distant chords on “SHEEP” make for a hypnotizing beat without any need for drums. The pulse that Yoshimura imbues into these pieces is consistent and subtle.
Another great thing about this album: It doesn’t sound dated at all. I could hear this as a film or video game soundtrack today and not even blink. Every bit of warble and character feels at home and carefully designed.
This is such a serene piece of ambient’s history.
7/10
“Get Rich Or Die Tryin’ ” by 50 Cent from 2003.
I don’t think another album demonstrates the pure power of charisma like this one does. To be fair, 50 Cent isn’t the only asset this album has; the beats across the entire album, with contributions by Dr. Dre and Eminem, are all instantly catchy. But those beats wouldn’t mean anything without 50 Cent’s seemingly limitless confidence.
Although 50 Cent’s verses plug along at a pretty leisurely pace most of the time, his tone and attitude sells every one of his punchlines and rhymes. Whether he’s drunkenly slurring a menacing hook on “Patiently Waiting” or spitting clever allusions to party culture on “In Da Club,” his presence is always magnetic.
50 Cent’s consistently engaging performances make me so glad the album isn’t buried with features, with a few appearances by Eminem and a few others rarely breaking up more than an hour of intoxicating pop rap.
The album really only has one low point for me: the hook on “Many Men (Wish Death).” 50 Cent’s relaxed vocals are perfect, but the second half of the hook is interrupted by a strange bit of distortion or clumsy editing. A remastered version would make this track much easier to enjoy.
But still, these tracks just don’t let up, delivering bangers in a bunch of distinct styles in moods. From the groovy steel drums on “P.I.M.P” to the nostalgic guitars on “21 Questions,” each song carves out the perfect space for 50 Cent’s clever bars and effortless swagger.
7/10
“Scenery” by Ryo Fukui from 1976.
This cult classic of Japanese jazz is soothing, easy-going and fun. Ryo Fukui’s nimble and emotive piano performances across “Scenery,” along with fantastic support from his bassist and drummer, bring these originals and jazz standards to life.
Given the fantastic quality of the album overall, it’s a little funny that “Scenery” opens with its weakest track. When “It Could Happen To You’s” beautiful solo piano intro opens up into a full groove, Fukui’s playing is too bouncy and loose to fit in with the drums and bass. That awkwardness only lasts for a moment and it’s barely an issue on repeated listens, but it does make “Scenery” harder to get into.
Other than that one hiccup, the trio is on fire for the whole record. From the lightning-fast shrill piano runs that lead into strong driving chords on “Early Summer” to the elegant, vast and sweeping melodies throughout “I Want To Talk About You,” Fukui delivers all the smooth cool and passionate poise a jazz fan could possibly want.
It’s a little disappointing that the title track is Fukui’s only original composition on the record. It would have been nice to get a stronger sense of his sensibilities as a composer, not just a performer and arranger. But still, “Scenery” is a timeless slice of cool jazz and hard bop that every music fan should seek out. Even if you aren’t a jazz fan, you just might find something to love here.
7/10
“Liquid Swords” by GZA from 1995.
Listening to Wu-Tang Clan’s “Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers)” can feel like hip-hop homework. It’s got some classic verses and hooks, but the dated production can make it difficult to revisit.
But “Liquid Swords” is all the great things about that Wu-Tang classic with none of the drawbacks. The production is tight, clear and menacing and GZA, along with his fellow Wu-Tang members, all spit with effortless confidence and charisma.
Now, this album isn’t technically flawless, but unlike “Enter The Wu-Tang,” the rough edges don’t distract much from these amazing songs. The synth tones on “4th Chamber” sound grating and harsh at first, but as the fantastic verses from RZA, Ghostface Killah and others pile on, it just slides right into the track’s gritty aggression. Inspectah Deck’s tone-deaf singing on “Cold World’s” hook is distracting at first too, but on second listen, it just adds character.
A lot of the hooks are mixed surprisingly low, which is particularly noticeable on tracks like “I Gotcha Back.” But it’s hard to argue when those hooks still get stuck in your head after a few plays.
These beats, primarily produced by RZA, perfectly suit GZA’s cold flows and relaxed swagger, accenting each dark punchline with mangled jazz samples and booming drums.
“Liquid Swords” doesn’t feel dated, even if it is a little rough in spots. GZA goes straight for the jugular.
7/10
“Who Will Cut Our Hair When We’re Gone?” by The Unicorns from 2003.
The Unicorns’ drastic swings between silly absurdities and intense musings on death and insignificance make “Who Will Cut Our Hair” a pretty gripping experience. But if it doesn’t quite come together as a cohesive journey and some songs are held back by the raw production.
The Unicorns’ best tracks can be absolutely stunning in the production and songwriting. “I Was Born (A Unicorn)” presents a driving groove and intricate guitar licks that Vampire Weekend fans would love while the band sings about unicorns getting left off Noah’s Arc and going extinct. The band delivers another dark, tongue-in-cheek narrative on “Let’s Get Known,” where the band contemplates the futility of chasing fame, comparing themselves to ants, accomplishing great feats but remaining insignificant.
Even when the lyrics are more obtuse, the production can stand on its own. I have no idea what “Inoculate the Innocuous” is supposed to be about, but the push and pull between tense lo-fi rock mellow passages and transcendent rushes of melancholy guitar and warm flutes throughout is gorgeous. Still, the album sets you up for disappointment, bookending the album with opener “I Don’t Wanna Die” and closer “Ready to Die.” The cohesive narrative suggested by the beginning and end just doesn’t come together throughout.
“Who Will Cut Our Hair” is a quality album, with plenty of catchy and raw indie pop to love. But it doesn’t quite reach the greatness it could have.
7/10
“California” by Mr. Bungle from 1999.
Mr. Bungle’s insane blend of noise rock, beach rock and old-school swing makes “California” a delight, funneling the band’s dark and cartoonish humor into an almost palatable package. Even if this album doesn’t reach the heights of insane chaos on Mr. Bungle’s previous album, “Disco Volante,” it’s incredibly impressive that these completely different sounds blend together so well into this disorienting fever dream.
The most straightforward pop songs on the record still carry Mr. Bungle’s strange and otherworldly feel, but stand alone as genuinely catchy and lovable bops as well. Opening track “Sweet Charity” smoothly cruises between soft bossa nova and bombastic big band as Mike Patton’s smooth but disconcerting vocals glide over the lush production. On “Pink Cigarette,” Patton’s hushed whispers on the verses and his soulful crooning on the chorus over the slow balladry of the horns and strings reads as very Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds in the best way possible.
Some of the more noisy and experimental moments of “California” don’t live up to the catchier songs, but when everything comes together, Mr. Bungle delivers songs you have to hear to believe. The distorted beach riffs and cartoonish effects on “None Of Them Knew They Were Robots” and the robotic cries for help juxtaposed with Beach Boys-esque harmonies on “The Air-Conditioned Nightmare” are equally childish and riveting.
I still prefer Mr. Bungle’s even more experimental earlier work, but I can see myself returning to this one much more often.
7/10
“Voodoo” by D’Angelo from 2000.
“Voodoo’s” album cover and its first few tracks falsely advertise and undersell it. The first four songs start out a little stale and slow before the album embraces neo soul and R&B in the second half.
Tracks like “Playa Playa” and “Left and Right” portray a hip-hop-friendly image, even if they are more moody and naturalistic than the average ’00s pop rap banger. It feels like D’Angelo decided to pretend to be a rapper on the first few songs, robbing us of his glorious singing on those first few cuts.
But on Side B, the gloves come off and “Voodoo” makes it obvious why it’s so revered by R&B fans. The minimal but tasteful blends of tight drums, warm bass and soft, expressive guitars on tracks like “Send It On” and “The Root” give D’Angelo all the room he needs for amazing harmonies and refrains, sometimes stacking his voice on itself six or sevenfold. If anything, even after the indulgent dynamic builds, I kept wanting more of his lavish vocals.
“Voodoo” goes out with a bang too: Its last tracks are easily the highlights of the entire album. “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” piles on more and more dramatic guitars and heavenly vocals reaching up into the absolute peaks of D’Angelo’s range for a climax that feels downright cinematic. And closer “Africa” is a perfect cooldown, sending the album out with a mellow blend of sparkling keys, light percussion, clear acoustic guitars and more stunning harmonies.
If you’re looking for some luxurious neo soul, particularly if you’re a fan of charismatic artists like Prince, you’ll find plenty to love on “Voodoo.”
7/10
“Pastel Blues” by Nina Simone from 1965.
Although Nina Simone is a legend for her contributions to vocal jazz, “Pastel Blues” truly lives up to its name, delivering unique and compelling takes on the blues genre with a great live band and brave, intimate songwriting.
Simone’s vocal performances throughout “Pastel Blues” have an undeniable gravity, with her animated tone and pure power consistently drawing you in. Opening track “Be My Husband” demonstrates this with a minimal mix of claps and drums, giving Simone all the room she needs to make an unforgettable first impression. “End Of The Line” provides almost as much space in its opening, with Simone’s elegant piano passages and mournful vocals perfectly painting a vivid picture of her heartbreak. But even when warm double bass, acoustic guitar and drums slide in to support her performance, the spotlight remains on her.
Although most of the album explores standard blues subject matter like facing simple troubles or romantic issues, Simone shifts the focus to something uncomfortably real and dark on “Strange Fruit,” describing lynched bodies hanging from trees in a bitter and vivid picture of racism in the deep south. Only Simone’s fragile voice and expressive touch on the piano convey her message, but that’s more than enough to make the song harrowing.
In the insane cries and propulsive energy of closing epic “Sinnerman” or in the bouncy balladry of “Trouble In Mind,” “Pastel Blues” feels cohesive. As she rides the line between romantic jazz vocalist and blues beat poet, Simone never feels out of place or out of control.
7/10
“Third” by Soft Machine from 1970.
This absolutely massive display of jazzy Canterbury Prog feels opulent and epic at every turn. Soft Machine swings between driving riffs, exhilarating solos and stretches of meditative ambience throughout “Third.” Although it can seem a bit obtuse at times, it’s more than worth the effort.
Each of “Third’s” four songs, all almost 20 minutes long, each present their own distinct blends of jazz and classic progressive. “Moon In June” might be the most accessible track, with its warm electric pianos, light drum beat and meandering structure providing a meditative and otherworldly foundation for the album’s only vocal performance. All together, its heavy improvisation and warped aesthetic seem like a more well-groomed and fun version of early King Crimson material.
“Third’s” instrumental cuts are just as enchanting. On closer “Out-Bloody-Rageous,” formless expanses of fluttering synths provide an oasis of serenity between energetic bursts of jazz jams with bright horns and distorted guitar solos. The jazz influence comes through most on “Slightly All The Time,” where Soft Machine dynamically coasts around recognizable motifs expressed with saxophones, guitars and flutes and reaches a climax of cosmic grandeur pioneers like Sun Ra are known for.
Soft Machine’s blend of styles on “Third” is unique and eclectic. If you’re willing to sit through an hour and 15 minutes of heavily improvisational prog, the creativity and craftsmanship on display is definitely worth it.
7/10
“The Dreaming” by Kate Bush from 1982.
Although this doesn’t reach the cinematic and immersive world of Kate Bush’s masterpiece “Hounds of Love,” “The Dreaming” is still a fascinating example of Bush’s personality and gravitas as a songwriter and performer. Listening to the album as it twists though off-kilter pop jams and folksy jigs is disorienting, frightening and addictive.
Bush’s range as a vocalist is on full display throughout “The Dreaming.” In a single song, she can leap from monstrous growls to girlish chanting and land in a mature, soothing tone before hitting every spot in that rollercoaster all over again on the next song. “There Goes A Tenner” is a perfect example of her vocal dynamism, where she begins singing in a bratty cockney accent before climbing into shrill refrains and dropping into deep crooning over the playful pianos and horns.
The odd songwriting and unreliable time signatures complement Bush’s performance to establish the album’s trippy world. “Tenner” leaps suddenly from a waltz groove into 5/4 and opening track “Sat In Your Lap” also switches time countless times, keeping up with Bush’s cartoonish leaps in tone.
And even with all the chaos, “The Dreaming” still has plenty of catchy tunes to sing along to. “Pull Out The Pin” and closing track “Get Out of My House” both have spectacular hooks that Bush’s weirdness doesn’t distract from, but strengthens.
If you’re looking for some out-there ’80s pop, “The Dreaming” fits the bill. Kate Bush is a legend for a reason.
7/10
“Heaven Or Las Vegas” by Cocteau Twins from 1990.
Usually, if all the songs on an album sound the same, the album suffers for it. Songs melt together into one patience-testing mass that quickly gets more and more grating with each repetitive track.
“Heaven Or Las Vegas” is one of the rare exceptions. The glorious and spacey new wave that the album returns to over and over just doesn’t get boring as each distorted swell and dazzling guitar tone draws you deeper into Cocteau Twins’ colorful world.
Elizabeth Frazer’s vocals often get lost in the sea of huge drums, dreamy guitars and warm bass, but her performances are so dynamic and powerful that the tone and color of her voice adds impact to every song, even if what she’s saying is almost completely obscured.
A lot of the chord progressions and arrangements are pretty similar and familiar, but it’s hard to count that as a critique. This album represents a logical conclusion of the new wave and dream pop of the ’80s, delivered in a straightforward but delightfully excessive way. Listening to this album feels like indulging in a ridiculous desert: It’s intimidatingly sweet and rich, but dangerously inviting.
The title track is particularly great, with Frazer’s vocals on the hook ushering in an incredible climax, but every song features the same gorgeous blend of dream pop bliss.
This is far from a stylistically diverse album, but the quality of the songwriting and production guarantee you’ll be coming back for more.
7/10
“Debut” by Bjork from 1993.
Although I still need to hear some of her other albums, I can easily believe this is Bjork’s most accessible project. Fortunately for weirdos like me, there’s still plenty of oddball charm layered over these ’90s dance pop bop to make “Debut” an absolute delight.
The album’s production is reminiscent of other alternative dance pop of the time (Sneaker Pimps and Everything But The Girl come to mind), but Bjork and her collaborators pull together enough strange sound-play and variety in the tracklist to make “Debut” stand out. The choppy sampled guitars on “Human Behaviour’’ and the way Bjork’s vocals move through space as the dance instrumental drops away and shifts on “There’s More to Life Than This — Live” make the album refreshingly unpredictable, even as it delivers toe-tapping bangers.
Of course, Bjork’s performances themselves add a lot to the album’s adventurous leanings. She doesn’t sing any traditional pop hooks over these bright and exciting songs, instead drawing her words out into almost slurred poetry. Her vocals are magnetic across the entire album, but they truly fit best over the album’s quieter production, like the gentle harps of “Like Someone in Love” or the sorrowful horns of closer “The Anchor Song.”
It’s fascinating comparing this to Bjork’s follow up, “Post,” which features more memorable pop highlights and even more experimental detours. Even if “Debut” seems a little tame by comparison, it’s still a solid album, perfect for hanging out with while stuck inside on the rainy days I lived through while hearing it for the first time.
7/10
“The Lonesome Crowded West” by Modest Mouse from 1997.
“The Lonesome Crowded West” feels limited in scope at points and its raw aesthetic doesn’t always draw the most greatness out of these songs. But it suits the title perfectly; Modest Mouse made the soundtrack for feeling alone in a crowd. On the record’s highlights, the band’s loose performances, spacey production and melancholy lyrics melt together into riveting mood pieces and emo anthems.
On the album’s longest cuts, Modest Mouse keeps you engaged with dynamic performances and expressive details in the songs’ soundscapes. Ten-minute epic “Truckers Atlas” opens with punky energy and raw vocals that seem pretty standard for the album so far, but gradually shifts into one prolonged instrumental jam, breaking up hypnotic repetition with added psychedelic effects and echoed vocals as the guitars and drums pick up steam. And the nearly seven-minute opener “Teeth Like God’s Shoeshine” also transforms dramatically, beginning with raw adrenaline before a mellow midsection with forlorn vocals and watery electric chards.
Along with the multifaceted odysseys, “The Lonesome Crowded West” features some unforgettable indie rock bangers. On “Trailer Trash,” bittersweet chords, twangy guitars and deadpan vocals about hoping to survive high school and seeing examples of “short love and a long divorce” make for an emotional journey, especially when the distorted swell of wavy guitars and catchy leads hits in the climax.
I don’t know how often I’ll revisit this album, but when the right mood hits, “The Lonesome Crowded West” will meet me where I am and destroy me, every time.
7/10
“Illinois” by Sufjan Stevens from 2005.
Overall, “Illinois” is a little overblown and cumbersome. The hour-plus run time and many interludes breaking up long songs can make it a little hard to appreciate in one sitting. But when Sufjan Stevens’ fragile vocals and grand orchestrations perfectly come together, the moments of catharsis he delivers are definitely worth it.
In its finest moments, “Illinois” is catchy and grand folk pop, bringing simple melodies and Stevens’ impressionistic lyrics to life with gorgeous instrumentation. On “Jacksonville,” bright horns, thick string arrangements and twangy guitars and banjos breathe and swell as Stevens’ observational poetry coasts over it all. “Chicago’s” story of regret and youthful adventure absolutely soars over the lavish and wintery blend of soft chimes, angular guitars, piercing strings and driving percussion.
And when “Illinois” gets a little softer to focus on its storytelling, it delivers some more highlights. Over the gentle acoustic guitars, banjos and horns of “Casimir Pulaski Day,” Stevens’ softly croons a tragic tale of falling in love with someone dying from cancer, which becomes devastating when it arrives at anger at God for letting it happen. Even on less directly sad songs, Stevens yanks on the heartstrings, like on the slowly building awkward romance over lush woodwinds and pianos on “The Predatory Wasp of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us.”
By the end of the album, it gets a bit hard to tell the songs apart when Stevens consistently pulls from the same instrumental palettes and melodic ideas. But “Illinois” is consistently gorgeous, even if it takes a little patience.
7/10
“Doolittle” by Pixies from 1989.
It takes a special kind of band to make a rock album that will consistently stick in your head without compromising its rough and gritty sound. If “Doolittle” proves anything with its effortless balance of power-pop bliss and grungy distortion, Pixies are just as special as all the acclaim and fandom would suggest.
The anthemic highlights of “Doolittle” are absolutely unforgettable, pairing bright production with sticky melodies for heavenly results. The warm bass line, shimmering acoustic strumming and watery electric leads supporting Black Francis’ twangy vocals on “Here Comes Your Man” makes for a timeless pop triumph. “La La Love You” pairs hazy surf rock guitars with campy crooning vocals to create a delightfully tongue-in-cheek result.
Despite all the sticky melodies and bright production, “Doolittle” never loses its edge. Even with the bright southern riff and driving bass line at its opening, “Hey” stands out as one of the album’s darkest moments thanks to Francis’ raspy yelps and the tortured guitar tones at the song’s climax. Francis’ sleazy whispers that build into primal screaming over rushes of distorted guitars on “Tame” are just as unnerving as they are electrifying.
Despite “Doolittle’s” enormous strengths, it’s not perfect. I definitely prefer the first half to the second. But Pixies are legends for a reason and even if you aren’t a fan of grunge or post punk, plenty of these songs can appeal to you just as perfect pop songs.
“The Nightfly” by Donald Fagen from 1982.
Considering my fond memories of listening to Steely Dan as I grew up, is it any surprise that I would love hearing those familiar, buttery-smooth chord changes on the lead singer’s solo pop debut? This review is predictable; sorry, not sorry.
The songwriting on “The Nightfly” effortlessly combines Steely Dan’s complex harmonies and chords with four-on-the-floor beats, crafting accessible yet refined pop instruments for Donald Fagen to belt over.
Opening track “I.G.Y” sets the album’s tone, blending snappy rhythm guitars, bright horns, thick vocal harmonies and a danceable beat that drills straight into your brain’s pleasure centers and will have you singing along before the song ends.
“New Frontier” is an even more addictive example, where depending on which part of the mix you listen to, you can pick out entirely different earworms. The watery guitar licks, distant harmonica, pulsing synth, funky bass line, simple piano melodies and driving cowbell will all have you coming back for more even before you hear Fagen’s effortless harmonies and charismatic verses.
The album features enough variety and stylistic intricacy to always keep things fresh as well. From the nostalgic piano balladry on “Maxine” to the glorious finale “Walk Between The Raindrops” that sounds ripped straight from classic Hollywood, Fagen delivers consistent quality without sticking to a predictable lane.
If you’re looking for some great ’80s pop, you can’t go wrong here. Enjoy.
8/10
“Maggot Brain” by Funkadelic from 1971.
This album is absolutely insane. Funkadelic creates a unique and intoxicating blend of psychedelic rock, soul and funk that keeps you guessing while you bob your head along to infectious grooves.
The title track introduces this album with the absolute best it has to offer, a 10-minute monster of minimal drums, eerie spoken word vocals and gritty, expressive electric guitar. The quiet instrumental provides perfect space for the guitar to truly sing, hurdling through frantic runs and tortured melodies to make for a truly haunting start.
Funkadelic revisits this psych rock style later on “Super Stupid,” which reminds me of Jimi Hendrix in the best way possible, but also explores elements of soul in quieter moments. “Can You Get To That’s” tuneful chorus, trade offs between shrill and baritone voices and steady acoustic guitars make it an easy-going pop tune that will have you humming along by the time it ends.
But as great as those detours are, “Maggot Brain” is funk to the core. Funkadelic creates addictive grooves with unpredictable fills and switch ups that make every song feel like it’s living and breathing. Closing track “Wars Of Armageddon” shows the band letting loose with its most playful chaos, piling relentless guitars and loose drums with bizarre vocals and gross sound effects for a finale that feels just as satisfying as it is ridiculous.
I don’t think I’ve heard an album blend these styles together with such freedom and skill. “Maggot Brain” is a classic for a reason.
8/10
“Songs For The Deaf” by Queens of the Stone Age from 2002.
I have no idea what “classic rock” will be after a few more decades, but if “Songs For The Deaf” isn’t included, we’re gonna have a problem. Queens of the Stone Age’s stripped-down, meat-and-potatoes rock opus is surprisingly immersive and theatrical without ever feeling self-indulgent.
The production and performances come together on the album’s heaviest cuts to create an absolutely addictive energy. The throat-shedding screams and thick, gritty riffs on “You Think I Ain’t Worth A Dollar, But I Feel Like A Millionaire” plunge you deep into the album’s sweaty, dirty setting. The penultimate “Song For The Deaf” is even heavier, slowly building from eerie ambience and menacing bass into an eruption of grimy guitars and propulsive drums with vocals just as catchy as they are unsettling.
When the band isn’t getting under your skin, Queens of the Stone age deliver more pop-friendly rock songs too. The driving pianos, drums and bass beneath easy-going backing vocals and whining lead guitars on “Go With The Flow” sound like they could be pouring out of a jukebox during a bar fight. “Another Love Song” is just as upbeat, with its surf-rock guitars, warbling organs and charmingly sleazy vocals making for a danceable hit.
And all of it stays tied together through the album’s concept as fake DJs introduce each track, before the facade falls away to reveal the naturalistic and somber epilogue “Mosquito Song,” subverting all the muscle-bound adrenaline with strings, horns and gorgeous Spanish guitar licks. After each listen, “Songs For The Deaf” gets more cohesive and expansive.
8/10
“Be” by Common from 2005.
This is one of the most wholesome hip-hop album I’ve ever heard. “Be” doesn’t feel divorced from the problems of the real world, but it faces them with unflinching determination and optimism. Plus, it helps that Common gets to rap over some of the best beats of Kanye’s career.
As soon as those double bass plucks and bright pianos on “Be (Intro),” it’s obvious that Common’s flows and Kanye’s nostalgic sample-heavy beats complement each other perfectly. Kanye influences more than just the production too, providing catchy melodic hooks on tracks like “GO!” and “The Food” along with one of his strongest guest verses after John Legend’s soulful hook on “They Say.”
These beats are amazing, but it’s Common’s steady verses and attitude on the mic that make “Be” a worthy classic. From his explorations of the sensual and selfless sides of love on “GO!” and “Love is…” to his portrayal of struggling through life as an African American on “Real People,” every track delivers effortless wisdom through witty bars that never spoils the fun. This album is conscious hip-hop, but these beats and flows will have you grinning and grooving.
“Be” goes out with a bang, following up the penultimate “They Say” with the eight-and-a-half-minute closer “It’s Your World,” which blesses your ears with one of Common’s most inspirational verses over grand horns and vocal samples before a mellow spoken-word outro.
If you haven’t heard this album, do yourself a favor and treat yourself to some soulful, smart and unrelentingly joyous hip-hop.
8/10
“Just Got Back From the Discomfort-We’re Alright” by The Brave Little Abacus from 2010.
This album is so densely and overwhelmingly produced, performed and written that it feels borderline impossible to capture it in words. The Brave Little Abacus made an emo masterpiece here, pairing gut-wrenching vocals with lush production that gives you a diverse sonic landscape to explore.
Opener “pile! no pile! pile!” perfectly demonstrates the band’s insane energy and intense dynamic production. The song swings between mellow pianos over a bossa nova groove to crushingly loud punk with drums, bass, guitars, synths and horns crashing over you in giant waves before the song fades away with synth ambience at its close. “Please don’t cry, they stopped hours ago” is just as versatile, opening with speedy guitars and chiptune synths dropping before into warbly chords, toy chimes and soothing ambience to highlight Adam Demirjian’s visceral belting. The song rises into a cacophonous climax as the band rushes in before seamlessly transitioning into “boy’s theme,” featuring twangy western acoustics over melodica and atmospheric synths.
The whole album rushes by like this, exploring vastly different sounds and styles, like the bouncy synths and Frank Zappa-esque angular riffs of “A highway got paved over my future…” and the chill folk rock of “can’t run away.” And somehow, The Brave Little Abacus makes it all cohesive by keeping the new ideas coming quickly and giving each new detour intricate detail and development.
If you even remotely tolerate emo, listen to this album right now. And if you’re already a fan, I’m sorry I took so long to get to it.
8/10
“Superfly” by Curtis Mayfield from 1972.
Going into this album, I expected a pretty straight-forward collection of soul tracks with some great grooves and expressive vocals. I got the funky vibes I was looking for, sure, but Curtis Mayfield delivers much more than that on “Superfly.” The songwriting on this album builds a direct and compelling portrayal of drug addiction, with every new song pulling you deeper into the album’s smokey, sinister setting.
“Pusherman” paints a vivid character portrait of a drug dealer that preys on addicts, with Mayfield’s sleazy intonations on the chorus perfectly capturing this deceptively friendly figure. Tracks like “Freddie’s Dead” and “Eddie You Should Know Better” put Mayfield in the role of a pleading friend, trying to convince those close to him to leave behind drugs and pointing to the lives substance abuse has already destroyed.
But instead of becoming a dour and depressing tale, “Superfly” inspires and encourages with its conclusion. “No Thing on Me (Cocaine Song)” celebrates a moment of jubilation and clarity as Mayfield sings about his appreciation for his life and his freedom from addiction.
The gorgeous and lush instrumentals across the album help keep things light too. The doubled up layers of bongos and drums, bright pianos, sultry horns and elegant strings make “Superfly” relentlessly engaging, even on instrumental tracks which don’t benefit from Mayfield’s gorgeous vocals.
This is an amazing example of music as a vehicle for honest, human storytelling. And of course, flawless bass lines and hooks. What’s not to love?
8/10
“Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” by Wilco from 2001.
“Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” is pretty straightforward on the surface; it’s just a healthy crop of indie rock and songwriter tracks with clear, clean production. But repeated listens reveal so much more of Wilco’s affecting songwriting and carefully crafted soundscapes. What seems like a normal indie rock album at first opens up into an expansive journey, melancholic and comforting all at once.
Opening track “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart” exemplifies the subtle grandeur that makes “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” so special. Jeff Tweedy’s downtrodden but catchy vocals, the bright pianos and surprisingly abrasive outro with bass-heavy strings and harsh noise. “Pot Kettle Black” is heart-wrenchingly gorgeous, with warm bittersweet acoustic chords propelling the song through Tweedy’s relaxed vocals, alt-country electric guitar licks and soaring choruses with lush strings and woodwinds.
As immaculate as the production throughout the album is, Wilco’s heartfelt songwriting makes it truly great. Tweedy’s mellow observations on the cost of soda and cigarettes juxtaposed with his defeated musings on tomorrow over the solemn chords of “Ashes of American Flags” are gripping. And Tweedy has your heart right in the palm of his hand right from the opening line of closer “Reservations:” “How can I convince you, it’s me I don’t like.”
Despite seeming a little plain at first, Wilco brings unforgettable songs to life with restraint, making “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot” truly timeless.
8/10
“Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” by The Flaming Lips from 2002.
If you’ve ever watched one of Hayao Miyazaki’s Studio Ghibli films, you know the wide-eyed, childlike awe they can inspire. Somehow, in a much more limited medium, The Flaming Lips gave me that familiar feeling in almost as intense a dose.
“Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” is a gloriously creative, lavishly produced and emotionally resonant album with enough catchy hooks to keep you coming back again and again while new layers and heartfelt lyrics reveal themselves.
“Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1” is a perfect example of how the album embraces escapist science-fiction to the tune of sparkling acoustic guitars, distorted drums and airy harmonies. But The Flaming Lips rarely let the fanciful stories of these songs without some clear ties back to emotional reality, like on “One More Robot / Sympathy 3000–21,” where lyrics about a robot learning how to feel just acts as a way to explore very real feelings.
This push and pull between escaping into fantasy and facing reality defines the emotional core of the album, as established on opening track “Flight Test” with glorious sing-along choruses and lyrics contemplating what it means to “man up” and face your problems.
The closing instrumental track “Approaching Pavonis Mons by Balloon (Utopia Planitia)” is a little underwhelming, but otherwise, The Flaming Lips made a masterpiece. I can’t wait to dig into the rest of the band’s work.
8/10
“Innervisions” by Stevie Wonder from 1973.
Trying to write a short review of this album is maddening, because every single track on “Innervisions” is a highlight. Stevie Wonder’s monster grooves, hooky songwriting and charismatic vocals draw you into his world, whether he’s contemplating the troubles of the world or helping you forget them.
Despite how much Wonder is known for the funk ecstasy of tracks like the classic “Higher Ground”, the softer songs are some of the best on “Innervisions.“ The sparkling guitars and solemn lyrics on “Visions” sets the thematic tone of the album beautifully, despite its restrained jazz pop instrumentation standing out from the tracks. “All In Love Is Fair” is an incredible slow-burning piano ballad, with Wonder’s yearning vibrato bringing the classy pianos and hazy drums to life.
“Innervisions” soft moments are spellbinding, but Wonder’s upbeat funky jams are here in full force too. The clean acoustic guitars, bright flutes and driving bass lines make for a perfect foundation for Wonder’s charming vocals, especially as the song ascends through multiple key changes at the track’s climax. On closing track “He’s Misstra Know-It-All,” Wonder crafts a truly epic finale, repeating the same earworm motif over and over with thicker and thicker harmonies as the bongos, drums, pianos, synths and bass all coast onward.
Stevie Wonder’s work isn’t especially conceptual or pretentious. But with a collection of soul and funk songs produced and written this well, “Innervisions” easily reaches greatness through sheer force of craftsmanship.
8/10
“Modal Soul” by Nujabes from 2005.
Lo-fi hip-hop is usually influenced by jazz, but Nujabes is on a whole other level. Instead of blending hip-hop beats with jazzy instrumentation, “Modal Soul” completes a seamless synthesis of the two. Each instrumental jazz-hop track feels meditative and soothing in a way only the best jazz music feels and each song with a guest rapper or singer feels just as much like vocal jazz as it does a boom bap banger.
And man, the vocal tracks here don’t feel like distractions from Nujabes’ masterful production, but a key part of “Modal Soul’s” identity that brings out the true energy of his beats. On “Luv(sic.) pt3,” Shing02’s verses and hook tie the nature of music to the nature of life, making his philosophical musings tie directly into the understated beauty of Nujabes’ dusty pianos, snappy drums and lush strings.
Substantial’s guest verses over the melancholy pianos, textured organs and warm bass of “Eclipse’’ are heart-wrenching, telling a lover how much he misses them and promising to see them soon and “talk to you sooner.” Especially in a genre which indulges in misogyny so often, it’s so beautiful and stunning to hear such an emotionally honest and selfless love song.
But even without lyrics to bring out even more emotion from the music, Nujabes’ production is soothing and therapeutic. Whether it’s on the soul-sample-heavy “flowers” or the climactic seven minutes of ethereal boom bap on closer “Horizon,” every beat provides so much to zone out to or dissect, depending on your mood.
This is a true masterpiece.
8/10
“The Low End Theory” by A Tribe Called Quest from 1991.
This is one of the essential hip-hop albums to play for someone who doesn’t consider rap an art form. Just like the heights of The Roots’ work, A Tribe Called Quest presents effortlessly creative and smooth bars and flows over fine-tuned yet gritty boom bap and jazz-hop beats.
Q-Tip and Phife Dawg both earn their status as top-tier spitters on this record, especially when they trade bars with incredible chemistry. Over the snappy drums, funky bass line and horn samples of “Check the Rhime,” Tip and Phife pass the mic, giving each other just enough time to shine on their own before jumping in smoothly to complement each other. And despite their relatively new status in the industry, Tribe exposes the hypocrisy and manipulation in the music industry like true veterans, especially with Phife’s lines about labels selling his work for less than it’s worth.
Despite the talent the other MCs display, it’s hard not to see Q-Tip as standing head and shoulders above the others. Some of the best tracks feature Tip alone, like when his relaxed flows create a head-bobbing groove even before the drums come in on opener “Excursions’’ or when he spits relentlessly playful observations over one of the albums best beats on “What?”
“The Low End Theory” is one of the best written and produced hip-hop albums ever and is more than deserving of its legendary reputation. And RIP Phife.
8/10
“Donuts” by J Dilla from 2006.
“Donuts” doesn’t feel like a traditional album that follows a dramatic arc from beginning to end. J Dilla’s collection of blink-and-you-miss-‘em mood paintings establish a sense of place more than anything, showing you different sides of a cohesive setting through gorgeous production. I don’t want to break down “Donuts” as a holistic experience really; I just want to live in it as it replays again and again.
“Donuts” feels designed for repeated listening. The closing track ends with the same beat that opens the album, encouraging you to just let it loop. The closer is called “Welcome To The Show” while the opener is titled “Donuts (Outro),” further blurring the line between beginning and end for seamless listens over and over.
J Dilla is a legend for is approach to beat making, refusing to quantize his drums to a grid, instead playing samples through live recorded performances that let each sound live and breathe in a new context. But don’t let that approach make you think “Donuts” is sloppy; J Dilla masterfully queues each sample to craft soothing, reliable grooves that are borderline impossible not to bob your head to as they play.
The way Dilla blends boom-bap drums with soul and rock samples makes it hard to imagine any other context for these sounds. And then just as you’re getting lost in the peaceful atmosphere, Dilla cuts the song off in the middle of a measure after barely a minute and switches songs. The harsh cuts away from peaceful loops make “Donuts” equally thrilling and calming.
I am thankful for this album. It’s a great place to hang out. RIP Nujabes and J Dilla, thank you both for your beautiful and comforting art.
8/10
“Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain” by Pavement from 1994.
Nothing can express youthful insecurity and hurt quite like raw rock music and Pavement’s classic embodies the clueless adventuring of young adulthood perfectly. “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain’s” songs are meaningful and sweet, with just enough grit to make the catchy riffs and vocals pop.
Opening track “Silence Kid” perfectly sets the album’s tone, guiding you through a multifaceted garage rock banger with ear-grabbing riffs and Stephen Malkmus’s raspy and fragile vocals. The switch from propulsive grit over bombastic instrumentation into a slower, heavier section in the final minute gives a little taste of Pavement’s versatility and teases the rest of the album beautifully.
That versatility is a massive selling point for “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.” From the jazzy instrumental lounge of “5–4=Unity” to the hooky refrains and smooth licks of “Gold Soundz,” every niche aesthetic Pavement tackles sounds natural and comfortable. Despite the often raw performances, Malkmus and company never sound out of control. In fact, their songs are quite soothing.
And after earworms like the anthemic singalong “Cut Your Hair” and the folksy and contemplative “Range Life,” Pavement wrap up the album beautifully with “Fillmore Jive,” guiding you patiently through obtuse spoken word and catchy refrains in a dramatic and theatrical almost 7-minute odyssey. Some truly twisted and grimy guitar tones at the song’s climactic moments make for a euphoric finish.
“Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain” is a coming of age album for the ages. Whenever you feel lost or confused, Pavement’s got you.
8/10
“…Is A Real Boy” by Say Anything from 2005.
“Alive With the Glory of Love” is one of the best rock songs ever made and a strong contender for my favorite song of all time. For years after first hearing, I put off hearing the whole album, fearing that Say Anything wouldn’t live up to that high bar. But despite stretching on and on for an hour and a half, “…Is A Real Boy” is remarkably consistent and catchy, standing as a timeless triumph of pop punk and power pop.
“Alive With the Glory of Love”, with its endless hooks, glowing electric tones, gang vocals and bittersweet theatrics, still stands out as the album’s best track, but not by much. The same heart-on-sleeve songwriting and ambitious production run throughout the album, from the unforgettable anthemic peaks of “The Writhing South” to the propulsive punk energy of “It’s a Metaphor, Fool.” These guitar tones, ambitious compositions and charmingly snotty vocals from Max Bemis make for an addictive combination.
Even when the album diverges from it’s progressive takes on emo rock and pop punk, Say Anything delivers incredible hits and ballads. The chunky percussion, warm keys and jangly guitar licks of “Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too” effortlessly complement Bemis’ darkly funny portrayal of an empty relationship. And “I Want to Know Your Plans” approaches the topic of romance with much more sincerity, finding hope in love over acoustic instrumentation.
That’s what stands out most about “…Is A Real Boy” amidst all the snark and pomp: An emotional transparency that gives depth to every twist and turn of Say Anything’s epic.
9/10
“Hejira” by Joni Mitchell from 1976.
“Hejira” isn’t just a jazz pop album with pillowy and stunning production, although it deserves plenty of praise for that. Joni Mitchell’s songwriting is clever, romantic and honest, exploring little narratives and grand emotions with equal detail and care. “Hejira” is about liberation; it explores the tragic mundanities that make us crave the open road and revels in the glory of escape.
Opening track “Coyote” perfectly demonstrates what makes Mitchell’s songwriting so powerful and endearing with tales about falling for a handsome stranger pouring out over bright guitars, warm bass and playful percussion. She returns to the earworm hook over and over, calling herself, “A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway.”
The album reaches its emotional climax on “Blue Motel Room,” where Mitchell gives her most tender and longing performance, expressing everything from unashamed affection to dry wit, over sparse double-bass and acoustic chords that perfectly suit a pop ballad for the ages. When she stacks spacey harmonies higher and higher at the tune’s midpoint, it’s tear-jerkingly beautiful.
“Hejira” sticks the landing effortlessly with closer “Refuge Of The Roads.” It’s warm, welcoming and idyllic, perfectly wrapping up the album’s thematic journey. It’s no accident that the album opens with Mitchell saying, “No regrets” and ends with her finding solace in the road after calling it a prison on “Coyote.”
Mitchell’s journey of self-discovery through song is pristine and deeply freeing. Finally getting out on the road again after a crushing year of claustrophobic lockdown and listening this while driving through the midwest… It’s an experience I wish everyone could have.
“Hejira” was with me in dark times and helped me celebrate when they were finally over. Only a truly special piece of art can truly help someone navigate life and understand it better. That’s what Joni Mitchell gave me.
10/10
Editor’s Note:
My opinions on these albums and this ranking has changed repeatedly since I finished this series earlier this year. This ranking roughly stands, although there are definitely some outliers. Pixies’ “Doolittle” has grown on me way more than I expected, for example.
Also, I just want to acknowledge that the process of writing and sharing these reviews was a complete mess. My initial goal was to write one album review a day, but finishing 42 reviews took me almost half a year. I went through some very hard times while working on these little blurbs and some of these albums became safe havens as I adjusted to drastic changes in my life, for better and worse.
I am so thankful for the musicians who made these albums, for the time I found here and there to appreciate them and for the people who actually value my silly rantings enough to read them. Thank you so much for following along or just catching up now so you can bully me for my stupid opinions. Much love :)
You can follow John on Twitter at @JohnMichaelBr15.
